


time together and time to spare

by JaneScarlett



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, multi-doctor fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneScarlett/pseuds/JaneScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing the Doctor with his companion made River wonder if maybe she wasn’t as special to him as she’d thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sighing Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mattexficexchange: Week of Prompts. Title from ‘Somewhere’ (West Side Story)
> 
> Many thanks to Sarah, Megs and Natalie for the beta (and for listening to me complain).

She wasn’t angry, exactly. More confused. Maybe… jealous.

Yes, confused and jealous were definitely it. River sighed, her hearts sinking with each footstep away from the Doctor. Because maybe it wasn’t his fault, how she was feeling. But it wasn’t hers, either. All she’d done was what she’d been asked to. Break out of Stormcage. Sneak into the lower levels of the prison, where they kept he hovercrafts parked (and really, the guards should lock their vehicles up better, if they didn’t want her to borrow them). 

And from there, River headed toward the coordinates she’d been given, which had brought her to the Delphox marketplace. Which wasn’t a surprise either. After Akhaten, Delphox was one of the biggest on this side of the moon, and rather a favourite site for the Doctor to do his shopping. He’d even brought her here before… so she’d expected to help him pick out a new bowtie. Find some internal working for the TARDIS, and to then spend the evening with her husband, fixing his ship and arguing about connections. 

What River hadn’t expected though, was to arrive and see the Doctor arm-in-arm with some other woman. 

And alright, perhaps it was ridiculous to know all that she did of him and not realise… because she did know him. Had heard all the stories of things he’d done, people helped and worlds saved. She even knew that he never did it alone. The Doctor was not a person who thrived in solitude; historically, he always had at least one companion at his side.

(It was how she even existed, for heaven’s sake. If Amelia Pond and Rory Williams had never travelled in the TARDIS, then River’s world would have been very different indeed.)

All the same. It was one thing to understand that, intellectually. It was entirely different to expect to meet one’s husband, and instead see him smiling and laughing and escorting someone past her. And it wouldn’t have upset her if it were Amy; but this girl was a stranger. A pretty, petite stranger with dark glossy hair falling sleekly to her shoulders and an engaging smile as she listened to the Doctor, then shook her head.

“Doctor, I don’t think I agree.” River could hear her words even over the babble of the crowd, in a voice just as sweet as the rest of her.

“Fine then,” said the Doctor, his face in a pout. “What would you say is appropriate?”

“Well, I’d like…”

The merchant in front of River coughed, and she swung her head around hastily to look at him. He was holding out one hand expectantly; and with an apologetic smile, River placed the credits into it.

“Sorry about that,” she said, managing to keep her voice level. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

“A friend?” asked the merchant. He was a purveyor of ancient jewellery and artefacts, and River knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t take offense at the way she couldn’t keep her head from craning around to look for where the Doctor had gone. 

“A bit more than a friend, and here with someone I don’t know.” She pushed the ring she’d just bought onto her own finger for safekeeping, giving the merchant a friendly nod before slipping through the crowd of people, searching for the Doctor. Easy enough. She could hear the girl’s murmured comments, the Doctor’s excited replies getting louder until she spotted them, only a few stalls away.

“That’s terrible, Clara!” The Doctor was frowning, reaching one finger to touch - something. She couldn’t tell what it was. Something small though, held in a blue box.

The girl –Clara, apparently- seemed unperturbed by the Doctor’s lack of enthusiasm. “But it’s good,” she said. “I think it’s lovely.”

“Oh, you would!” The Doctor looked grumpy, and River found herself hanging back behind the column of the neighbouring stall, ducking her head down and hoping that her hair didn’t show. 

Not that she hadn’t planned to walk over to them; she’d been invited, after all. But she wanted to hear more of what was going on, first. Perhaps even see what the Doctor was really like out in the world and with his companions… her husband was still something of a mystery past her research. They hadn’t been married long -it was only a few months since Area 52 and into her sentence at Stormcage- so maybe all his ‘River, let’s go see this!’ and the tentative kisses and adoring smiles were an act, and this was who he truly was. The man smiling indulgently at his companion, as though she was the centre of his world.

Childish of her to admit, but she’d rather thought she was the only one he would look at like that.

“Most women,” said the Doctor to his companion, his hands still fiddling with the box, “wouldn’t think that was lovely.”

“But you’re not looking for something for most women,” said Clara, shaking her hair back and giving the Doctor a smug, sidelong look. “And I’ve said that I approve.”

River could hear the Doctor muttering to himself. Something along the lines of oh really and you think you know everything.

“I know more than you,” said Clara cheerfully. “And you’ve obviously no experience with what women want.”

“Oi!” The Doctor looked horrified, finally raising his head, his eyes darting right and left. “I know quite well about what women want. I’ve been married before! Three times!”

The look Clara gave him was pitying. “So you say.”

“I do say,” said the Doctor. “And you know that. You’ve seen me before.”

“Yes.” Clara looked uncomfortable. “I’ve seen a lot of you.”

She looked sad for a moment, the bright, animated light fading out of her eyes; and River watched as the Doctor took a step toward her, his hand reaching for hers.

“Don’t think of it.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Alright, Clara? Don’t think of it.”

“I’m not. I mean, I was. But I’m not. The impossible thing, it doesn’t even bother me anymore.”

The girl’s eyes were opened wide, lips curled slightly into a smile, hands relaxed; and River nodded absently, scrutinizing her face. She was good, Clara. Excellent, even… an excellent liar; because whatever the impossible thing was, it was obvious that despite her words, it bothered her as much as memories of Kovarian still bothered River. (Which was to say, quite a bit whenever those thoughts intruded on her everyday life.)

“Look,” Clara said finally, plucking the little box from his hand, “you don’t have to believe me, but I’m right. It’s perfect.”  
She held it out to him, her eyes challenging; and River watched as the Doctor nodded, absently taking it back from her while still peering at her face to see if she was more upset than she was saying.

“Alright,” he said. “I believe you. You say it’s perfect, and,” he gave a mocking smile, “you’re the boss.”

“That’s right,” said Clara. “I am.”

“Alright,” said the Doctor again, turning to the seller with a sigh. “I’m going to take this one. A present for someone special.”

“And better wrap it. Sorry, Doctor,” Clara apologised, seeing his crestfallen look. “But I’ve seen the mess you make at Christmas. It’s better when presents don’t look like they’ve been wrapped by a five year old.”

He made a face before smiling ruefully, slinging his arm around his companion’s shoulders and hauling her against him to press a loud, smacking kiss on her forehead.

“You’re right,” said the Doctor. “Again.”

“I know.”

River meant to walk out, then. Go over and see the Doctor, because he’d invited her and she was only here because he had.

But something stopped her. The careful way the Doctor was still watching Clara out of the corner of his eye, as though he was afraid she might break. His arm, looped over her shoulders and hers wrapped around his waist.

Something about their ease together was painful. Because she knew that he was close to his companions. But this seemed like more than friends. It looked intimate; and it struck River again, just how little she knew him. The things he’d done, yes. But how he felt about the people in his life… 

She’d always thought she was special to him. His wife. The woman who chose not to kill him and called upon an entire Universe to let him how much he was loved.

But maybe she wasn’t. Not compared to how much he valued his companions; and River sighed, her brain full of anger and jealousy and confusion as she turned and walked away.


	2. Musical Monday

There was a little piano bar close to the Delphox markets that River had gone to when she was a student at Luna, mostly because it was everything she thought a piano bar should be. Modelled nostalgically on a 1920s Earth speakeasy, it was dim and opulent and intimate, with a grand piano in the corner, (mostly) humanoid singers crooning jazz, and a good selection of liquors from around the Universe.

All of which, River felt, would make her feel better today. She’d spent all night feeling self-righteously angry and jealous about the Doctor inviting her to meet him and showing up with his companion; but today she was feeling…

Still angry. And jealous… which really meant, no different than yesterday.

But perhaps a little foolish too; because she had a feeling the Doctor had mixed up his timing and hadn’t meant to make her feel unwelcome. _That_ emotion was all hers; but River felt, as she perched on the only empty chair at the bar, that today she wanted some distraction. Music and alcohol and peace-of-mind in equal quantities… except that she really ought to have known. The Universe seldom ever gives you what you think you want.

“Well,” said someone close to her. “Hello, there.”

River suppressed a sigh, deliberately not turning to see who’d spoken. Honestly, it didn’t change. On Earth, or across the galaxy. Walk into a bar by yourself, and everyone feels the need to speak with you.

“Hello, beautiful,” the man said again. 

She gritted her teeth, still ignoring him. Besides, he wasn’t sitting right next to her. There was a person in between them; one whose gaze she felt briefly on her, who then sighed, muttering something that sounded like: ‘don't start’. 

“I was only saying hello!” protested the first man.

“Do I look,” asked River, finally giving up pretences, “like I'm in the mood for hellos with a stranger?”

“Who says I’m a stranger?” He gave her a slow wink, and River let her eyes drift quickly over him. At the very least, he was quite ruggedly handsome. Chiselled jaw, bright blue eyes beneath heavy brows, a perfect thatch of tousled brown hair. Wearing a World War Two army greatcoat; which –oddly– suited him.

But she was still certain. She’d never met him before… and yet, he kept smiling at her. Calmly, easily. As though he had all the time in the world for her memory to finally prompt her on his identity.

“Or,” he said, “am I getting ahead of myself? Lovely little bar here. Great music, don’t you think?”

Her eyes slid across the room, to where a three-armed, two-headed woman in a sequined dress accompanied herself on piano, while singing ’Someone to Watch Over Me’ in harmony.

“It’s nice,” River said noncommittally.

“Nice?” he drawled. He had an American accent. “Oh, those girls from Sesmi Six. They sure put those extra appendages of theirs to good use.”

“And they’re great with their mouths too, I imagine?”

“Harmony is an underrated skill.” He grinned slyly at her, before catching the bartender’s eye and making a tiny gesture. 

“That’s very kind of you,” River said, as a glass was slid in front of her. “But unnecessary. I can buy my own drinks.”

“Anything for a friend,” he said.

“Are we friends?”

“If we aren’t, then we should be. Come on,” he said. “Be brave. It’s the same thing that we’re having.”

She wasn’t sure what it was, though. An icy concoction in a frosted glass; and River took a sip before gagging, trying discreetly not to spit it back out in disgust.

“Yes, it’s a daiquiri,” the man said. He was watching her every move.

“A daiquiri,” repeated River. “And… banana?”

“What's wrong with bananas?” It was the man next to her who had finally spoken aloud, and River looked at him, sucking in her breath in surprise.

The Doctor. Not _her_ Doctor; he was wearing his Tenth face. (She’d stolen a book from Luna’s library during the research for her doctorate, a handwritten diary from the early 20th Century that showed drawings of his every regeneration except the Eleventh.) So _he_ wasn’t a surprise, exactly. She knew who he was… but somehow, she’d never expected to find herself sitting next to this version of him, with him vehemently defending a fruit she had never liked.

“Nothing wrong with bananas,” said River finally. “People like them.”

“I think,” the other man said, “that what this charming lady is trying to say is: ‘nothing wrong with them, except banana-based drinks are not what she comes to a bar for.’ You know, Doctor, not everyone shares your fondness for them.”

“Speak for yourself,” said the Doctor mildly. “They’re high in potassium. Portable. Squishy, if you forget you have them in your pockets; but then the rule is, don’t forget them.”

“Do you usually carry bananas in your pockets?” asked River curiously.

“Do you know of a better place to carry them?” answered the Doctor. “Difficult to walk with a banana in your hand all day.”

“How about,” said the other man, “we stop talking about this, or we’ll drive her away.” He winked at River, discreetly signalling to the bartender, who walked over, deftly replacing her daiquiri with a glass of whisky. River nodded gratefully, taking a sip to let the warm, peaty flavour clear the banana taste from her mouth; even as she wondered how he’d known that was what she wanted.

“So,” he said, leaning across the Doctor. “Do you come here often?”

“You've been around so long,” asked the Doctor, “and that's the best line you can come up with?”

“I’m out of practice. Usually I don't have to say more than hello.”

“Maybe it’s good I’m here,” said River. “To deflate your ego.”

The Doctor smiled, slightly. “So Jack’s lines aren't working on you? You're one in a thousand, then.”

“Should I be offended by that?” Jack asked.

“A thousand? A million, surely?” River offered.

“Better,” mused the Doctor. His eyes were a little brighter. Almost admiring, as he looked at her. “Definitely better. Absolutely. I’m sure that you are one in a million to not be taken in by him.”

“Or insulted,” continued Jack idly.

“That’s alright,” said River, taking another sip, feeling her cheeks flush with the effects of the whisky and the Doctor’s eyes on hers. “Go on being insulted. We don’t mind.”

The Doctor began to laugh silently, his eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking; and Jack stood up.

“I think I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, striding away.

“Don’t go,” called River, feeling abruptly contrite. “We didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright,” said the Doctor, absently patting her hand. “He’s pretending. Great actor, Jack Harkness. He just saw someone over there… see?” His fingers tightened on hers, as he nodded across the room to where Jack was greeting someone else, his smile seeming to dazzle an entire table-full of people at a time.

“He doesn’t lack for company, does he?”

“Jack? Never. He’s a good man, though.”

“Despite being…” River found herself grinning at the sight of Jack across the room, a couple draped on each arm. “Indiscriminating?”

“Good word,” complimented the Doctor. “You’ve an excellent vocabulary.”

“It’s not the only thing I’m good at.” She couldn’t help flirting, even though it seemed to fall on deaf ears. The Doctor looked as though he didn’t even hear the innuendo in her voice. Which was -strangely- irritating.

“It’s not completely accurate, though,” he continued soberly. “Jack has had people he cares a great deal about, throughout his life. People he’d die for, if he could. 

“Jack and I,” added the Doctor quietly, “we’ve a lot in common.”

“So,” said River, trying to keep her voice light. “You’re indiscriminate as well.”

“Now,” said the Doctor. “I didn’t say…” He looked at her suddenly, his eyes searching her face before he shook his head. 

“Never mind. You don’t trust a lot, do you?”

“Not really,” River admitted. He nodded, carefully watching her.

“What did he do?”

“What did who-“

“It’s a good bar,” said the Doctor, shrugging. “Good music, good liquor; even if you don’t like banana.”

She grimaced, and he grinned unrepentantly at her.

“But you’re here looking as if you’ve got a cloud over your head. Someone did something… something you’re not happy about. Or don’t trust the motive for.” He waited expectantly, while she swirled her whisky around, avoiding his eyes.

“Yes,” River admitted. “Maybe.”

“So you came here to drown your sorrows?”

He sounded like he was mocking her. “Well,” she snapped, “why are you here?”

“Oh,” he said. “Something similar for me. And Jack…well, he’s had something happen to a friend of his. He tried to help Owen, but…” The Doctor’s eyes were dark with sympathy. “He got it wrong. We all do, sometimes. And he feels guilty; and gave me a call to meet up for a drink. And I agreed, because I know what that’s like. Guilt. The silent killer of the psyche.”

“So then,” said River. “You’re running from something, too? Haven’t you ever heard; don’t run when you’re scared?” She was throwing his own rule back into his face, but he didn’t even react. Too early for him, perhaps. Her Doctor would have scowled and pouted.

“Everyone runs when life deals something upsetting,” said the Doctor. “And when I feel like that, like now, Jack is great company. Always understands. Always listens, even if he gets a little-“ The Doctor’s eyes skittered across the room. There were now seven people clustered around Jack. River couldn’t even tell where everyone’s hands were.

“Distracted?”

“Exactly. So,” he turned to her, clinking his glass against hers, “I’m listening.”

“Listening to… what? _Me?_ You’re volunteering to listen to me talk about my problems?” The impropriety of complaining about his Eleventh self to his Tenth wasn’t lost on River.

“I’m here,” said the Doctor. “Not doing anything else. I’ll can go first, tell you what’s cluttering my mind.”

River looked at him suspiciously; sensing, if not a trap, then at least a rat.

“Alright,” she said slowly. “You first. If you want."

“Well,” said the Doctor casually, as though telling a story, “I've this friend. Haven’t seen her since… well, I haven’t seen her. Jack has, though; she helped out in his problems with Owen. Point is, she’s a good friend. I've known all sorts, but she's brave. Kind. Stronger than she knows; except,” he added, “she does know, now. And she's the sort of person it's easy to care about. But she thought that we could… that I could...”

The Doctor paused, his lips sinking into a frown. “Except that we can’t. She doesn’t understand -she thinks it because of someone else in my past- but it’s not. I couldn’t be with _her_ either.” He took a long swallow of his daiquiri, before looking at River, his eyes seeming to plead for her understanding.

“Love,” he said. “It’s not unequal. It can't be. My friend, she’s so young. So human… doesn’t understand that even if you might care for someone, if it’s not right then it’s…”

“Wrong?” River offered.

“Not wrong,” said the Doctor. “Just not for me.” 

His lips were pressed together. He’d clearly said all he was going to say, but River had a feeling she knew exactly when he was. After Rose. After Martha, even; before Donna came back into his life.

“About your friend,” River said slowly. “You can’t control how people act. Even your friends. You can’t make choices for them, or control how they feel. You can just try to be the best friend to them that you can, under the circumstances.”

“Good point. Hard to live by, but you’re good at this advice bit. Very good.” The Doctor was smiling, just a little. But he wasn’t meeting her eyes either. His gaze was across the room, on the singer; and River focused on the words of her song.

“Grand to be alive, to be young, to be mad, to be yours alone…”

“Come on now,” said the Doctor suddenly, looking up at River with a manic light in his eyes. “Play fair. Pay the piper.”

“No pipers here,” said River. “A two headed singer, though.”

His answering grin made her smile shyly back in response.

“I’ve still,” said the Doctor, “told you my problems. I’ve even told you about Jack’s… so come on. The Doctor is in. Talk to me.”

She hesitated. Well and good for him to say that. Much, much more difficult to actually find the words to complain to her feelings about him to… well, himself.

“It’s just that… I’ve got-“ _A husband_ , her mind prompted. She clamped her lips together briefly until the urge to say that passed.

“A friend,” River continued cautiously. “I was supposed to meet with him, but then I saw him with someone else, and I thought…”

The Doctor peered curiously at her. “You thought maybe he’s lying about how he feels for you? Or for her.”

“He says all these things,” she confessed in a rush. “Or doesn’t say them. Or doesn’t say enough. And I know him, I do. I’ve known him my whole life.”

“But you still think he’d lie to you? About how he feels?”

“I’m…” River paused. “I’m not sure. It’s more that I know how much he loves his friends. I just thought… I just thought I was worth more.”

It felt like it was costing her parts of her soul to say that. It felt like the most selfish thought in the entire world –that she should be worth more than the other people the Doctor had ever known, even more than her parents- but the Doctor sitting beside her just shrugged.

“Seems to me,” he said, “that there’s a lot of ways to love someone. But if you want to know how he feels, then you look at what he does. Not always what he says. People can say a lot of things to hide what they feel.”

Which, River reflected was good advice; but not the most understandable for the situation. Judging from the look on his face, her comments hadn’t been the best for him either… and River blinked hard, staring down into her drink. 

All she’d wanted was a little time today. Music and drinks and peace-of-mind; and instead, she felt even more adrift. He had people he cared about during his life; that had been clear from how complimentary he’d been about Martha. He’d had companions he’d be willing to die for, even. But she wasn’t his companion, she was his wife … and she felt no better, or clearer about if she was more to him than they were. Or even if she should be.

She barely noticed when the Doctor stood up, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder with a murmured, ‘be right back’. But she looked up, startled into Jack’s face when he leaned close to whisper directly into her ear.

“It’s been good to see you.”

“It’s been nice to meet you too,” she said cautiously. He sat beside her, stealing her glass and taking a long swallow of whisky, nearly emptying the glass.

“Probably best to run along, though,” said Jack. “Back to your own Doctor, River Song.”

She tensed at his words, her fingers curling into a fist as she looked into his handsome, smiling face.

“I didn't tell you my name,” River said. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

“You think I don't know the Doctor's wife when I see her?”

Her eyes lifted to his in surprise. “You know me, then? He talks about me?”

“Not this Doctor, he’s too young. But later, he never stops. So of course I know you. And besides that… you and me, River.” Jack smirked salaciously at her.

“We’ll have a long association together, totally unrelated to the Doctor.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“The Doctor would make my skin into a coat if I tried that with you,” said Jack flatly. “Haven’t you noticed he’s territorial…no,” he amended. “Maybe you haven’t, yet? Anyway, our association isn’t in the way you’re thinking… but don’t worry; you’ll love it. Trust me.”

“Not if I can help it.” But his friendly grin made her want to smile back. So she did, and his eyes sparkled at her with a shared complicity.

“This bar is a thing for us,” said Jack. “Especially you two, you always call me to meet you at this bar when you’re feeling hurt. And you always have whisky. _Always_ ,” he emphasised, seeing her eyes grow wide with understanding that this man would be a friend, a close one, to her and the Doctor in the years to come. 

“So. What’s he done this time?”

“Nothing,” said River.

“Except hurt you.”

“I don’t think he meant to. It’s just…” Jack pushed her glass back to her, and River automatically lifted it to her lips, draining the last few drops.

“Do you travel with him?” she asked. “As his companion?”

“Occasionally,” Jack said. “But not as a companion. As a friend.”

“What’s the difference?”

“That’s like asking what’s the difference between his companions and his wife,” said Jack. “His companions are the ones he takes to see the world. Shows off to when he’s lonely. The ones who make him feel alive. 

“His friends and family, which,” he winked, “naturally includes his wife, are the ones he comes to when they need him. The ones that he turns to when he’s hurt; even if he doesn’t want to admit it. And he because of that, he’d do anything to see them smile and let them know that they are loved…whether or not he says it correctly, in a way you want to hear.”

“But,” said River, “he loves his companions. I know he does.”

Jack smiled at her, almost gently. “I don’t think you understand the difference yet. You will.

“But now,” he looked over his shoulder. She could see the Doctor’s lean frame across the room, heading back toward them; and Jack furtively bent over something in his hands, tapping furiously at the small buttons. She saw a small electric spark, which he frantically beat out against the bar before turning back to her.

“Now, you’re going to go off to wherever you’re supposed to be. And I’m going to slip a little something into the Doctor’s drink-

“Jack!”

“See?” He grinned. “You’re already sounding like the River Song I know. 

"Look, I don't make a practice at drugging the Doctor. But this time, I think I have to. I know that he shouldn’t remember you this early.”

“Sounds like a spoiler,” River said suspiciously.

“It is,” Jack agreed, pulling her into a tight hug before releasing her, and grabbing her wrist, pushing something onto it.   
“I’ll see you again, River. Find whatever answer you’re looking for, but don’t forget that you’re his wife. Far more than his companion.”

He pressed one final button on whatever he'd put into her wrist, and River's entire world spun around in a dizzying swirl of lights and colour and time and space, until she opened her eyes again, lurching off-balance and falling heavily against something soft.


	3. Traditional Tuesday

River groaned, hoping vainly that her whisky would stay inside of her where it belonged. Because whatever had just happened –that swirl of light and time and space- felt like it had sent her body on ahead, with her internal organs arriving in a jolt a few seconds later; and had made her reel, hands flailing as she fell against something soft.

Except it wasn’t a thing she’d fallen against. Embarrassingly enough, it was a person. One who had turned to look accusing at her; his face screwed up in distaste at her clumsiness.

“Sorry,” River apologised, trying to scrape herself off the floor. It was more difficult that it ought to be. She’d been trained by Kovarian, she was able to roll off roofs and fall out windows with impunity; and yet whatever Jack had done had her knees feeling like jelly, her arms wobbling like they weren’t even attached, and her hair… she caught a glimpse of it in the corner of her eye. Each individual curl seemed like it was actually standing on end; and River supressed a sigh, imagining what she must look like.

“Sorry about that,” she apologised again, finally realising who she’d fallen against. A man. An _old_ man with a cane; frail beneath his greatcoat, with fly-away wisps of white hair escaping from beneath a funny looking cap. River almost groaned. She could have killed him.

“Sorry?” he snapped acerbically, still glaring at her. “What does sorry mean? Sorry for being clumsy? Sorry for almost knocking me over?”

“Sorry,” River said wryly, “generally covers all those things.”

“Yes,” he said. “Quite right.” He watched as she shakily got to her knees, hoping her head would stop spinning before she managed to stand. River blinked hard; once, twice. No good. Her vision refused to focus.

“Hmm,” he said, reaching out one hand to haul her off the floor. 

River stood, her body weakly swaying from side to side. Apparently she’d been wrong, about this man. He might look frail, but the strength in his hands was like steel. Or perhaps she was just extraordinarily shaken up right now; because she sagged, almost about to fall if he hadn’t clamped his hand around her wrist, peering into her face.

“Time travel,” he said sternly. “Strictly forbidden, young lady.”

“I’m not young, and I’m certainly not a lady. And,” River added, “I didn’t time travel.”

“No? What’s this?” He tapped the bracelet Jack had put onto her wrist.

“A present,” River said.

“Did you steal it?”

“No, I think… I think I’ve borrowed it.”

“Yes, well.” He looked at her again, closely, before finally letting go of her. Almost to her surprise, she stayed standing.  
“I’ve borrowed time travel equipment before,” he muttered. “At least I knew how to use mine.”

River’s eyes suddenly focused on his face. The craggy corners and thin lips, turned downward into a frown. The handle of a magnifying glass, protruding from his pocket. The hat; and oh, she was an idiot for not recognizing him before, because when had the Doctor not worn some ridiculous form of headgear?

“When is this?” she asked quietly. “What’s the date?”

“1963,” answered the Doctor, in an equally soft voice. “Well? Are you admitting you’re a traveller now?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” said River. “Just that I didn’t think that I’d done it now…” 

Except she had. And perhaps Jack had intended to send her back to her Doctor, his Eleventh self; but he seemed to have gotten it a bit wrong. She was in London. In 1963, facing the very First Doctor who had ever left Gallifrey.

Despite the situation, River found herself grinning. Two Doctors, in two days. Almost an embarrassment of riches.

The Doctor was watching her. “Only fools smile at nothing,” he muttered. “Is something funny?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tried to explain,” River said, still grinning.

“Good enough. I’m not sure I care to know.”

“You really are difficult when you’re young,” said River, before biting her tongue. Her Doctor always said the same to her, with a fond twinkle in his eye, as though he was teasing. She’d never thought she’d be in the same situation.

“Far from young,” said the Doctor, drawing himself up with dignity. “Though I’m sure my garments have distracted you. They’ve been chosen with great care and attention to local fashion.”

“They always are,” said River, pressing her lips together and trying desperately not to giggle.

“Hmm,” said the Doctor. She got the distinct impression he always said that when he was thinking.

“Well,” he said. “As you’ve apologised. And you’re standing again, able to make your own way home, then I’ll bid you-“

“No,” River interrupted. “I’m not sure I can.” She eyed the bracelet on her wrist. It hadn’t been an accident, Jack giving it to her. Pity he hadn’t made sure she could understand how to use it first.

“And what am I to do about that?”

“Could you drop me somewhere?” River asked. “21st Century, maybe?” If she was at least in the right century, she could find her way back to Amy and Rory in Leadworth.

The Doctor stared at her. She could almost hear the wheels in his mind, turning.

“If,” he said slowly. “If I did. What have you to offer? No one does something for nothing.”

River’s mouth fell open in surprise, and she hastily closed it again. If this were her Doctor, she’d have teased him, offering him kisses to make his cheeks turn red. But she had a feeling… his Tenth face hadn’t responded when she’d tried flirting.

Call it a hunch, but she had a suspicion that would go down worse with this Doctor. She might find herself stranded in 1963 when he walked away in disgust.

“What would you need?” River asked finally. “I’m not certain of what you think is a fair offer.”

The Doctor looked uncomfortable for a moment, fiddling with the ends of his tie. River watched him in amusement. Apparently, some habits were ingrained, no matter his face.

“It’s my granddaughter,” he muttered. “She says we're not right. Nothing wrong with being who we are, is there?” 

“No,” River said, knowing it was the only thing she could say. “There isn't?”

“Just started at school. Wanted to be like the other children here on Earth that we’d seen in our travels. Begged me to stay put for some education; not,” he snorted, “that she needs it. Remedial, what she’s doing. 20th Century, they don’t even understand about the fourth dimension.” He started walking as he talked, and River strode next to him, only just realising that they were in a market. The Doctor was carrying an empty basket, bestowing disparaging looks on the perfectly healthy vegetables they passed as though they were rubbish.

“Came home last week, saying that she wants us to have tea. ‘Just one day, Grandfather,” mumbled the Doctor, mimicking his granddaughter’s high, breathy voice. “Just one day a week. Tuesdays, maybe? Traditional Tea on Tuesdays! What’s the use of being on Earth, if we don’t try to live like the natives do?’

“Well, nonsense, I say.” The Doctor stamped his cane for emphasis. “We may be temporarily sojourning on this planet. But we are not natives, and will never bow to their customs, or adopt them as our own!”

Considering that River knew how the Doctor would later appear –as English as English could be- she managed not to grin. Everyone starts somewhere; and for him, it was apparently here.

“Nothing wrong with a traditional meal,” said River mildly. “What’s wrong with having tea together?”

“She doesn’t just want that stewed drink,” said the Doctor, looking disgusted. “She wants eggs and chips. Legumes on toast. Or something called spaghetti hop.”

“Hoop,” River corrected automatically, shrugging apologetically at the Doctor’s accusing look. “And it's hoops, sweetie. Plural.”

“Is that right?” He stared at her, before he inexplicably smiled. It transformed his entire face, that smile; from stern into endearing.

“I should have known,” he mused, “that there’s no such food as a hop.”

“If,” River said, imitating his wheedling tone, “I help you put together a bang-up tea for your granddaughter, then perhaps you might…”

“Yes, yes.” He looked distracted. “You drive a hard bargain. One tea, to make my granddaughter happy. And I’ll bring you back to your time. 21st Century, you said?”

“21st Century,” agreed River. The Doctor looked at her from the corner of his eye, pushing the basket toward her.

“Well then! Show me what I’m to purchase the next time, when you’re not here. Unless you plan on staying to make us tea, every Tuesday?”

“Not a chance,” said River, carefully filling the basket with basics. Tea and sugar and a tin of evaporated milk; she wasn’t certain whether there was a milkman willing to deliver to the Doctor’s junkyard. Tins of sardines and spaghetti hoops and baked beans. Bread, still warm. A thick slab of butter, a wedge of Cheddar cut from an enormous round from the front of the shop. She paused at the jars of jam, her hand hesitating between raspberry and blackcurrant and marmalade.

“Take the lot,” said the Doctor, seeing her indecision. “Susan will sort out what she likes.”

“But you won’t like the marmalade,” warned River. “Won’t be sweet enough for you.”

“And you know me so well?” asked the Doctor. “What I will and won’t like. Not sweet enough for me? Look at that colour.” He snatched the jar from her hands, holding it out for the lights in the market to turn the contents a rich, glowing gold.

“The colour,” said River, remembering quite a few moments with her Doctor discretely trying to spit out foods he’d thought would be delicious, despite her assertions he wouldn’t like them, “is not indicative of the taste.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said the Doctor, placing it into the basket. “Seems I’m capable of handling something tart. Especially if you call me sweetie.”

Her eyes flew up to his in alarm. Oh, she was stupid. The endearment had come out, without her even thinking.

“Tell me the truth,” said the Doctor, leaning toward her. His face was serious, but his eyes were twinkling merrily. “You know me.”

River swallowed, painfully. _Spoilers_.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I might.”

“How?” he demanded. “When? You’re not familiar. Never seen hair like that.” He reached out a hand toward River’s curls, twining one around his finger.

“You seem like someone I’d remember,” said the Doctor softly. “Something in your eyes, my dear. Or magic in your hair? Therefore the conclusion is that we haven’t met.” 

“Well…” She looked around nervously, looking for anything that might distract him. Telling him the truth – _I’ll be your wife, one day_ \- was completely impossible. Of course, she could lie. She _should_ lie; but somehow, she didn’t want to.

“You should take these,” River burst out, throwing a packet of biscuits into the basket. “You’ll love them.”

He crinkled his nose. “I think not. Jamie Dodger. Who are they named for?”

“Jammie,” River corrected. “And I’m sure they’ll be your favourites.”

“You think so?” The Doctor gave her a sidelong look. “I think you’re trying to avoid answering a few questions. And I’ve told you. This _tea_ ,” he bit out the word in disgust, “is for Susan.”

“If it’s only for Susan, then why are you doing it?”

“She’s my granddaughter,” said the Doctor, his face relaxing. River wasn’t sure he knew that he was smiling; which did seem to be a rare occurrence for this particular Doctor. Unlike his descendants, he didn’t seem too fond of cheeriness.

“She asked for something,” continued the Doctor. “She doesn’t ask for much. Doesn’t follow rules, but that’s a family trait. Wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“So you love her enough to do something you find distasteful,” said River, steering them toward the till. The Doctor dug money out of his pockets, not answering; and River tried again.

“She’s family, and you’d always want to make her happy because you love her.”

“Hmm,” said the Doctor. “Come this way, my dear. My ship is just over here… if you take that bag, I’ll take this one with the heavier tins.”

They walked for a few moments in silence, and River paused before she walked through the TARDIS doors.  
“You’re not going to answer me, are you, Doctor?”

“I’ve forgotten the question,” he answered distractedly. “Something about love, wasn’t it? Don’t see why I should have to say something so obvious.”


	4. Woeful Wednesday

She should have remembered something about the Doctor. It was bad enough in his Eleventh self, but his earlier incarnations, especially the First…

The man had _no_ sense of time.

And consequently, she wasn’t in the 21st Century. She’d let him pilot the TARDIS… although, _let_ made it seem that she’d had a choice. She hadn’t. To take over might have given him too much of an idea of who and what she was… so she’d played it safe. Volunteered to get the tea ready for Susan, while he navigated them back to London in 2013.

So she had only herself to blame, finding herself in Cardiff. In the countryside, far outside the city. In what felt like 1986.

In the rain.

A downpour, really. Like the skies had opened right above her head; and River gasped, ducking her head down, turning automatically for the TARDIS she knew was no longer behind her.

“Idiot,” River muttered beneath her breath, not certain whether she meant him, or herself. Because he’d gotten the date and place wrong; but she should have had the sense to check environment conditions.

There were a few houses dotted around the vicinity, but no one else mad enough to be outside in such weather, and it was no good standing in one place. River groaned as she picked a direction and started walking. Within minutes, her hair was drenched and plastered down to her skull, water droplets beading on her forehead and rolling down her nose and cheeks.

Normally, she could have walked for hours. Days, with her training. Awake, half asleep, in all forms of discomfort or even unendingly torturous pain. 

So, this should have been easy. A few miles of a walk through Cardiff countryside in the rain? No problem.

Except that she was walking toward nothing, with no one knowing where she was. The last two days, she hadn’t even thought about the Doctor; what he’d do when she didn’t show up at the coordinates he’d sent. If he’d be concerned…

“He should be,” River said petulantly to herself. There was a small part of her, unwillingly pleased to think of the Doctor worrying about her. Like it was proof that he loved her best; but oh, how selfish to say that. To even think it.  
Jack might have had a point about the Doctor loving his friends and family differently than his companions. And jealousy was ridiculous. Her husband was over a thousand years old, she was far older than she looked and they could both live hundreds of years more. He travelled through space and time, nearly always with a human (and nearly always a female human) at his side. That didn’t mean physically intimate… but in River’s present mood, she resented even the implication of emotional intimacy. Her parents had been different; they were her _parents_. She couldn’t fault him caring about them. And it wasn’t that he couldn’t have friends…

“I’m an idiot,” River said again to herself, clamping her lips shut against the water seeping into her mouth. Because logically, she would never have allowed the Doctor to dictate how she should live her life, who she should engage with, or have affection for. It was wrong for her to want to do that to him… but it all made her think. 

They were married –in a timeline that no longer existed, in a place that never was. But what was their marriage worth, to him? To her? River paused to wring out her sleeves -the fabric was thoroughly soaked, the cuffs flapping around her hands and slapping wetly on Jack’s leather bracelet- as her attention caught for a moment on the ring she’d bought at the Delphox market. An impulse buy; but she’d loved it the moment she saw it. Beautiful, yet worn with age... filled with the excitement of seeing her husband –in the moments before she’d seen him with Clara- it had made her think of him.

It felt like she’d spent eternity trudging through the rain, with her spirits as dark and gloomy as the day around her. But it had only been a few hours of being cold and wet and miserable; and suddenly River saw something that made her stop. Though the dim afternoon light, something glowing brightly though the greyness. The lights of a little shop; and River walked faster, trying to see what it was. It would have been fantastic if it were a tea shop. Someplace to get something warm, maybe a little bite to eat while she planned how to get back to her own time.

Except that it wasn’t. It was a hair salon in the middle of nowhere; and River wrinkled her nose, wondering if she should even try walking inside. The likelihood was that, in the state she was in –sopping wet, her clothes dripping and clinging to her body- they’d refuse to let her over the doorstep.

Then again. She shook her head, cold rivulets of water running down her neck. If ever there were a time to get her hair dried, it’d be now.

She walked inside, head held high, despite the squelching of her boots against the linoleum underfoot and the shocked expressions of all the staff.

“Do you have time for an appointment?” River asked casually. Far better to ignore the pointed looks of displeasure as water pooled beneath her. The Doctor’s rules, really. Act like you own the place, and everyone will follow suit.

“Not like that, we don’t.” The head beautician looked scandalized. “Haven’t you heard of an umbrella, girl? Come in my shop, carrying all the outside in with you? First the other one, and now you…”

The other one was clearly a teenaged girl, a towel hanging around her neck as she dug through the rucksack at her feet. She looked up and gave River a sunny smile.

“Real cross here, aren’t they?” she asked, tossing something to River with lightening quick reflexes. River caught it, a large, striped towel unfolding in her hands, nodding her thanks as she began to briskly dry her hair.

“I mean,” said the girl. “It’s just _rain_. Not like we’ve tracked in acid, or something.”

“Rain’s no better,” said the beautician. “Have this whole place a puddle by the time you leave.”

“Acid,” said the girl scornfully, pulling out cans of deodorant and stacking them carefully on the floor, “is far worse than rain. I’d know.”

Idly, River watched her. Two cans, now three, four, five… she was starting to wonder at what sort of body odour problem the girl had, when suddenly she made a triumphant sound, pulling two thick jumpers out from the bottom of her bag.

“I’ll wear this one,” she said. “And my friend will wear that one; so we’ll be dry on top. Alright for you?”

The beautician snorted. “And your bottoms?”

“Never mind our bottoms,” said River, gratefully pulling the jumper over her and peeling off her dripping shirt beneath. “We’ll sit on towels and be dry enough.”

The look the beautician gave her could have frosted glass; but River was certainly a match for someone like her. She stared back, matching her glare for glare; until the woman angrily dropped her eyes, jerking her chin toward two empty chairs.

“When you’re ready,” she muttered, stalking away. The girl looked up briefly from where she’d been repacking her bag, and caught River’s eye with an exuberant grin.

“Snooty place, ain’t it? Wouldn’t have come here if I’d known; would’ve kept walking.”

“Why are you here then? Not a local, are you?” She couldn’t be, River thought, as they sat down together. She had the wrong look; jaunty and stubborn and excited. Plus, her accent was quite definitely English, and not Welsh at all.

“Had an accident,” the girl said. “So the Professor got mad. Told me to go out; I’d been complaining I needed a haircut so this was a great time. He’d clean up, and I should do something other than blow up his lab. I’m Ace, by the way.”

“River. And I’m almost worried to ask what you were doing that could have blown up a lab?”

“Just experimenting,” said Ace. “I like doing that. I’m good too; was studying for my A levels in Chemistry! But sometimes experiments, you know?” She jerked her hands apart swiftly, fingers splayed.

“They get away from you?”

“Exactly! You’re brilliant!” Ace exclaimed. “You get it. So, that’s why I’m here. The Professor almost pushed me out into the rain and said he’ll be back in a few hours to get me, when everything wasn’t hazy anymore. I guess… d’you think it was the pink smoke that made him mad?”

“It would do that to most people,” River agreed gravely.

Ace shrugged. An almost nonchalant he’ll-get-over-it sort of shrug, that instantly amused River and endeared the girl to her even more.

“So what’s your story? ‘Cause you’re not from around here neither.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, first, you don’t sound Welsh. And then you’ve been walking in the rain; if you were from here, you’d have a car. And…” Ace smiled nervously. “You had a look on your face when you came in. Sorta… lost.”

“All true.” River nodded, privately impressed. The girl seemed smart and intuitive. And kind. “I did get lost and ended up here by accident.”

“Happens a lot, I think. Getting lost? Something similar happened to me; I was going home one night and there was this storm; and then I ended up somewhere else. Somewhere dull… I even ended up having to be a waitress.” Ace screwed up her face into a scowl.

“And now you’re in Cardiff,” River teased. “A step up?”

“Nah, it’s only for now. The Professor’s moods don’t last long. You’ll see, he’ll be back here for me, and we’ll go off somewhere else. Someplace good; he’s ace at picking places to visit. Ones I never even knew existed!”

The girl’s exuberance was infectious, and River couldn’t help smiling. “So you travel a lot?”

“Yeah, and it’s been brill. We’ve been to these…” Ace bit her lip, looking embarrassed; and River had a sudden suspicion she was editing in her mind what she was allowed to say. 

“Well, there were these Ice Gardens. That’s where I met the Professor actually, with his friend Mel. But then she left, and he was supposed to take me home, by a scenic route, except that we just do all these things now. We can go anywhere…and it’s funny. I always thought when I was in Perivale,” said Ace, “that I wasn’t supposed to be trapped there. You know what I mean, right? Doing the same things everyone else does? But now I’m not. There’s all these things out there, and we can go to everything.”

River’s eyes narrowed. She was right, then. Her own fault; all that time, studying the Doctor throughout time. She’d paid only cursory attention to the notes of his companions… but looking at Ace, hearing what she said about travelling with her Professor.

It was all a bit too familiar.

“You’ve been to Paris, then?” River asked, feeling a little guilty for baiting the girl. She liked her; genuinely liked her. But she wasn’t certain how else to prompt the answer she wanted to hear.

“Oh, yeah. We saw the Eiffel Tower.”

“While it was being built?”

“That part was brill-“ Ace caught herself, seeming to only just realise she’d given herself away. Her eyes met River’s in the mirror, before she sighed.

“I thought so. You’re a traveller too, huh? Time? And Space?”

“Born on an asteroid,” admitted River. Ace’s eyes lit up in excitement, her mouth open in an ‘o’ of surprise.

“And my Dad was a Roman Centurion,” said River. It wasn’t bragging, exactly. It was true, but she wanted to see how Ace would react. The girl didn’t disappoint. She grinned, reaching out to grab River’s hand.

“That’s just…”

“Ace?” asked River, grinning.

“Yeah!”

* * *

If anyone had ever asked what her favourite way to spend a rainy afternoon was, River never thought she would’ve said ‘getting her hair done in Cardiff’. And not, in fact, that she’d ever do that again. But this Wednesday, she was with Ace. Funny Ace. Clever and brilliant and loyal and kind and perhaps just a bit unconventional… she would happily have spent more time with her. Comparing stories about places they’d been, things they’d done. 

In fact, she would happily have travelled with her. There was a great deal to admire in a girl who seemed so self-sufficient… Nitro-9 explosives in her rucksack and all.

“I see why the Professor likes you,” River said, without thinking. Ace squinted at her in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“Just who you are. I know someone like your Professor,” said River. _Like_ her Professor, but not completely. Four regenerations later made a great deal of difference. “And he likes to travel too; always takes companions with him. I think I understand why, now.”

The bell on the front door dinged, cutting short any response Ace might have made; and River looked up, knowing just who she was expecting to see. So it wasn’t a surprise when someone swaggered in.… except she had rather thought he’d be taller. But no. The Doctor, while wearing his Seventh face, was short and almost gnome-like, with a bold swagger. He wore plaid trousers and a paisley scarf and a patterned sweater vest beneath a beige jacket… and River closed her eyes in disbelief, and thanking all the Gods that _her_ Doctor only had a predilection for bow ties. Clearly, his fashion sense could have been far worse. 

“Ah, Ace,” said the Doctor as he vigorously shook his umbrella, splattering raindrops all around the entryway and ignoring the scathing look from the beautician. “There you are.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ace, scooping up her rucksack. “Is the TARDIS ready? Pink smoke gone?”

“Perfectly clean; and fuchsia, not pink. No further traces of fuchsia smoke. Smoke is at its most deadly when it’s fuchsia, you know. And we won’t even discuss that melted grey gloop you left behind in the lab. Or what you were thinking.”

Ace looked embarrassed at the sternness in his voice. “Probably for the best not to say anything else,” River murmured to her. “No matter what he’s saying, he does understand how experiments can go.”

“Boom,” agreed Ace, grinning. “So, Professor? What do you think?” She shook out her hair, beaming at him; and River was amused when he only squinted.

“About what?”

“My hair!”

“You’ve still got some. I thought you wanted it cut?”

Ace rolled her eyes affectionately, before walking over and whispering something into the Doctor’s ear. River caught the words _‘friend’_ and _‘lost’_ and _‘please’_... and she flushed slightly when he turned to stare, unblinking, at her. His eyes swept over her, up and down; and self-consciously, she tucked her hair behind her ears. It didn’t feel the same though; the beautician had blow-dried and flat-ironed it into a sleek, honey-blond fall. A glimpse in the mirror had told her that even her own parents might have found her unfamiliar.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, turning back to his companion. “No need to pick up strays,” he admonished in a low voice. River caught the faintest trace of a Scottish burr; and she smiled slightly. Amy would have been pleased.

“Strays are dogs and cats, not humans.”

“Funny that you mention humans.” The Doctor’s eyes flickered to River, then back to Ace so quickly that River wondered if she’d really seen that. “Still, no strays. And especially,” he emphasised, completely ignoring Ace’s sputtering protest, “ones who can take care of themselves.”

“I can take care of myself.” The girl was giving him a reprimanding look. “But you brought me with you when I needed to get home. So come on, Professor. Please?”

“I’m sorry,” said the Doctor, actually sounding rather apologetic, “that you simply lack the temporal understanding about the situation you’re attempting to put me in.”

He walked over to River, taking her hand gently. Funny; it might not be her Doctor, but something about his touch still made her breath come faster, her hearts race. The same feelings as when his later incarnation did it… and the Doctor gave a little sigh, his thumb caressing her wrist gently.

“Who are you?” he asked quietly. “Time Agent?”

She’d read about the Agents while at the Luna. Hailing from the 51st Century, members of the Time Agency were reputed to have devices to manipulate time itself. 

“No,” said River simply. “I’m not one of them.”

Her hand was still in his, and he put out his other hand to stroke the bracelet Jack had put on her wrist, tapping buttons at random as he shook his head in mock indignation. 

“Vortex manipulator,” declared the Doctor. “You can’t fool me, I can smell these a mile off. Particularly nasty form of time travel.”

River closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. Of course. Vortex manipulator. She should have known; she’d read about them, even though she’d never been able to try one for herself. (The Time Agency was rather particular about who they recruited; and her credentials had never been good enough. Too much history of instability and timelessness; they sought people with an established past and family connections.)

“I borrowed it,” said River. “From a friend… I’m not sure of how to program it.”

“Never steal equipment you can’t use.”

“Borrow,” retorted River.

“A matter of intent, don’t you think?” But his eyes were twinkling, the faintest smile on his lips.

“My companion,” he confided, “thinks we should bring you with us. She likes you. And she thinks you’re searching for something, or someone. Like she was.”

River blinked. “She’s a great girl, Ace. Are all your companions like her?”

“I only travel with the best,” said the Doctor dismissively. “But you didn’t ask what I think about that.”

“Let me guess,” said River. “You don’t want me.” Ridiculous to feel hurt, saying that. Ridiculous, even, to have a pang that his companion liked her enough to want her around, but her own husband –even if he wasn’t her husband yet- didn’t.

The Doctor frowned. “I didn’t say that. And I wouldn’t mean that… except have we met before? You seem familiar.”

Her breath caught. “Something like that?”

“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Then, you see.”

“Not really.”

“Time travel,” said the Doctor, with another sigh. “Not to be played with. Paradox is to be avoided at all cost. Press the square button when we leave.”

He turned, nodding at Ace before sweeping out of the shop. The girl gave River an apologetic shrug and a smile before scrambling after the Doctor; and River stared after them, not understanding what had just happened.

_Press the square button_ , the Doctor had said.

So she did.


	5. Toe-Curling Thursday

Spend enough time with the Doctor, and nothing shocked you anymore. Because River knew she should have been surprised -after pressing the square button and the resulting bodily wrench that she was getting to loathe- to find herself facing a firing squad. She counted under her breath. Five… ten… no, twelve soldiers. Vaguely humanoid -wearing grey camouflage and masks over their faces- with very large guns in their hands, all four of them. Her fingers strayed down to her holster. Even with a spare charger, she might have trouble taking them out. Twelve soldiers times four hands each, forty-eight guns; a tall order even for her…

“Hmm,” said someone next to her; and River looked up quickly, seeing stripes. Lots of them in fact, and on a very long scarf, looped around the neck of a tall man with a head of curls. His eyes were wide and he was peering curiously at her, as though surprised she was beside him. She supposed to him she must have appeared out of nowhere. River glanced down at the vortex manipulator on her wrist. Really; there had to be a way to program that thing to avoid landing her in dangerous situations the moment she arrived.

“Hello, sweetie,” she said, feeling rather tired. No point in evading the endearment, right now. Facing a group of soldiers intent on blood, when even she might not be able to get them out… in the grand scheme of things, calling this Doctor sweetie (the Fourth Doctor, she rather thought, based on that ridiculous scarf)… well, there were certainly worse things that could be said.

“I didn’t summon you,” answered the Doctor, almost immediately. “Begone, foul spirit.”

She couldn’t help it. She stared at him, her mouth falling open in surprise. Yes, River thought, slightly amused despite the situation. There were worse things that could be said than her calling him sweetie; and ‘begone, foul spirit’ was certainly in that category.

“I don’t think I like the term _foul spirit_ ,” River said tersely. 

“Ah, but you see, I know the nature of your magic!” The Doctor’s voice was suddenly loud, almost booming and obviously audible to the army surrounding them. “Appearing in a cloud of smoke like a djinn? Taking the form of an attractive woman with very puffy hair.”

Unconsciously, River’s hand crept up to her head. Somehow, her sleek blow-dried hair was a mess, now. Still straight on the ends, but beginning to wave at her scalp, giving her a slightly boxy, electrified look. Quite unattractive.

“Maybe foul is harsh,” continued the Doctor. “What do all of you think? I know she doesn’t have the right number of arms for you to find her appealing… no? Yes. Fair, rather than foul? Quite right!

“Fair spirit,” said the Doctor dramatically, grabbing her hand. “Begone!”

She realised -a split second before it happened- what he was planning to do; and acted accordingly. Shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, leaning forward; so that when he broke into a sprint, pushing his way through the surprised soldiers, she was right next to him. Shoving with her elbow – a quick kick to the side had another two knocked into each other – and all the while, the Doctor never dropped her hand. His fingers were warm and a little sweaty against hers as they ran, twisting and turning, rapidly changing directions through hallways as they were chased by the firing squad.

“In here,” panted the Doctor, pulling her into an alcove. “Let’s hide here.” 

“But we’re still out in the open,” River said.

“Maybe they’re not looking for us anymore?”

She couldn’t help giving him a withering look. He smiled pleasantly back at her in return before pressing his toe against a few points on the floor, finally bringing his heel down in rhythm. One short, two long and one more short. He cocked his head, listening intently before doing it again. River glanced at the Doctor, guessing that he was searching for a trapdoor. Beneath marble… not impossible, but still unlikely.

“Doctor,” she began, but he shook his head impatiently.

“No,” he commanded. “Listen!” There was a faint banging sound coming from somewhere. An echo of the same rhythm; and he shot her a manic grin.

“Right spot; and time to go,” said the Doctor, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his side, still with that damnable smile on his face… and then he leaned them both over until they _fell_ … 

River wanted to close her eyes. The world felt suddenly full of sensation with nothing concrete to focus upon. Her ears echoing with the measured tread of the squad getting closer; the Doctor’s smell –wool and candy and the sharp spiciness of time- comforting and soothing and invigorating as he embraced her. The rush of air in her face as the floor came up swiftly toward them; pale, dirty marble looming in front her face… and River heard a tiny _click_ as it turned transparent and they plunged down into a freefall, where there was no sensation at all anymore. Only dark and cold and nothingness…

Well, not completely nothing. She could feel the Doctor against her. His arm, so hot that it almost burned where it lay around her waist, his fingers still gripping hers tightly as he pulled her into his chest. She buried her face into his shoulder and she thought, for one moment, that she could feel his lips close to her ear, murmuring something. But she couldn’t make out any words. Just a heated puff of breath against her neck… and then they landed, tumbling in a heap of limbs and fabric and pressed-together faces on a cold stone floor, still holding onto each other for dear life.

“Finally,” said a voice quite close to them. It was light and female and very dry. River spit out the edge of striped scarf that had ended up in her mouth and opened her eyes to see a slender, fair haired woman looking at them with an indescribable look on her face. Confusion, maybe. Definitely surprise.

“And you’ve brought a new companion?” said the woman, still looking down at them. There was a little twist in her voice at the word companion; and River blushed furiously, blood heating her cheeks as she realised that she was lying flat on her back with the Doctor draped over her, their legs entwined and clothes in disarray from the bumpy landing. And he was _still_ holding her hand, somehow.

Not that she minded that part. And not that she usually even minded being caught with her Doctor in flagrante delicto. But something in this woman’s eyes made her feel embarrassed. As though she had no right, and she was being judged…

_I’m his wife_ , River thought fiercely. _Or… I will be?_

The woman was still watching her, but something seemed to relax. As though she recognised her… or recognised something within her. She gave River a tiny nod, turning her attention to the Doctor. 

“Would it be ridiculous of me to ask how or why you chose to make such an entry?”

“There’s nothing wrong, Romana,” said the Doctor, “with being ridiculous from time to time.”

“Clearly.” Her lips pursed. “Which, I notice, still evades the issue of an answer.”

“We were surrounded,” said the Doctor, finally rolling off River and getting to his feet. “And this is my foul- no, fair, wasn’t it? - spirit. My lucky charm, if you will.”

“Oh, is she indeed?”

“She,” snapped River, standing up herself, “is right here. And can speak for herself.”

“Sorry,” apologised Romana. She gave River a little smile, seeming far warmer now. “I know from personal experience how frustrating it can be to be ignored.” She glanced at the Doctor, who was patting himself down, rewinding his scarf around his neck, and paying absolutely no attention to them.

River nodded, accepting the apology. “I’m aware of that feeling, myself. And I happened by at the right moment, when the Doctor needed to make an escape. So…” Her voice faded as Romana sighed, turning to give the Doctor a disapproving look. 

“I told you to avoid the firing squad.”

“I managed to in the end,” said the Doctor.

“I _also_ informed you that the TARDIS is being held in Cargo Bay 3.”

“Well, where is this?”

“Cargo Bay 2.”

“Why haven’t you gone to get it yourself?” asked the Doctor reasonably. “You’ve been only one number off this whole time.”

Romana looked as though she wanted to strangle him. In fact River was convinced that she still might, if her clenched hands were any indication.

“Because,” Romana said, “five hours ago you told me to get here and wait for your signal. This hatch is one way only – down. I couldn’t return to the surface to look for you; I was afraid to leave or I’d miss you. 

“And,” she added darkly, “I wasn’t the one responsible for bringing the tools to rewire the system from down here and open the doors between the Bays.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor, looking slightly abashed. “That’s right. I should’ve thought to give you…” He began to rummage through his pockets, muttering to himself before producing something with the air of a magician, holding it out for them to admire. Romana reached out to take the screwdriver; but the Doctor frowned, not letting it go as they engaged in a silent tug-of-war.

“Doctor…” Romana still looked quite irritated; and he ducked his head down enough to look straight into her eyes. His frown grew more exaggerated. More of a pout, really; his lower lip protruding and mournful eyes. Romana stared back impassively before sighing, withdrawing her hand and giving a single, resigned roll of her eyes.

River wanted to grin, suddenly. Regeneration didn’t change everything… her Doctor did that, too. When she was angry with him, knowing that it was his delays that caused them to get stuck somewhere; he’d give her that look. Misbehaved-puppy-like remorse until she relented and forgave him… and always with sighs and eye rolls on her part. Something about dealing with the Doctor engendered such mannerisms, it seemed. In his companions and his wife… and River looked closer at Romana. Sensing beneath her irritated expression the humour and fondness the other woman held for him… which didn’t mean that she’d hesitate to give the Doctor hell.

River could appreciate that –sometimes, her husband deserved it, after all- but she had a sudden warm flash of affection for the Doctor’s companions. There was something almost comforting to know that she wasn’t the only one who felt like that about the Doctor. 

“You can’t really resist when he looks like that,” said River idly. Romana’s eyes flickered to her, the vaguest trace of a smile creeping onto her lips.

“Speak for yourself. I find him easy to resist.”

“You don’t,” said River. “If you did, you’d never travel with him.”

Romana stared at her for a moment before giving a soft laugh, her face relaxing completely as she held out her hand to River.

“Romana,” she said. “We weren’t introduced.”

“River.”

“Beautiful name. You know that he,” Romana glanced at the Doctor, “probably won’t remember it.”

“No,” murmured River. “Probably better he doesn’t, anyway.”

“I see,” said Romana thoughtfully. She swiped her thumb against the edge of the vortex manipulator on River’s wrist, looking up to meet her eyes with an understanding look. “Just as well that he thinks of you as a spirit…”

“ _And_ a lucky charm,” interrupted the Doctor, still frowning a little. He was looking between them, as though confused that they were suddenly talking amongst themselves and ignoring him.

“And a lucky charm,” Romana echoed. “Perhaps she’ll be able to fix the doors, then? Something tells me that she’s the good one with technology.” She took River’s arm, turning to walk swiftly with her down the dimly lit walls of the Cargo Bay; leaving the Doctor grumbling to himself as he scrambled to catch up. Every time he was close to them, Romana sped up a little more. River bit her lip, giving Romana a sly, sidelong look; amused to see an echoed smile on the other woman’s face.

“Maybe we’re not being fair?” she whispered, as they stopped in front the Bay doors. Romana shrugged philosophically.

“He rarely is. And he never apologises.”

But Romana was wrong; because when he finally caught up with them –panting slightly, adjusting the scarf from where it was drooping onto the floor- he muttered something in Romana’s direction that sounded suspiciously like _sorry_.

“What was that?” asked Romana thoughtfully. “I don’t think I heard you.”

The Doctor sighed, looking rather put out at having to repeat himself. “I said that I’m sorry for leaving you in the Cargo Bay.”

“And for bringing this poor girl along with you unexpectedly?”

The Doctor glanced at River. He reached out to take her hand, his fingertips caressing softly over her knuckles, his thumb tracing around the ring on her finger.

“Fair spirit,” he murmured. “Lucky charm. I seem to remember…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and River held her breath. Wondering if he’d had a sudden memory from his First self. Meeting her in London, all those years ago.

He dropped her hand, smiling at both of them. “I don’t think she minded,” he said cheerfully. “Did you?”

“Well,” began River.

“It’s alright,” said the Doctor, patting her hand. “I know you agree.”

He turned to fiddle with the door controls; and Romana sighed loudly. But her eyes met River’s with a barely-concealed smile, and River couldn’t help grinning back at her as she knelt by the hatch to see what was going on. Within moments, she was wrist-deep in wiring alongside them both; the Doctor sighing loudly as though they were cramping his style when either she or Romana corrected him trying to connect the wrong components. 

It was a few hours they were working together, and River couldn’t stop smiling the entire time. Exhaustion aside –zipping up and down her husband’s timestream- it had been quite a week so far. Meeting her Doctor, with his different faces. Meeting his companions… she could suddenly understand how the Doctor could be so fond of them all. They were an endearing lot, all those people who interacted with her husband. 

And she was suddenly rather absurdly pleased that she was counted within that group.

“You’re smiling,” commented Romana, sitting back on her heels and looking at River.

“Yes,” said River. “I suppose I am.”


	6. Freaky Friday

It had been the strangest week of River’s life so far; which –considering her past– was really saying something. So many Doctors: the First and Fourth, Seventh and Tenth. But it hadn’t only been seeing them. It had been a week of meeting others associated with him, each one another piece into understanding her Doctor and the part they played in his life.

And maybe even hers…because Romana had bid River farewell by whispering instructions for using a vortex manipulator beneath her breath, finishing with a slight smile and a gleam in her eyes before saying: ‘until the next time’.

“Is there a next time?” asked River. She’d had the faintest suspicion… something about the look in Romana’s eyes when she looked at her. Almost like recognition… and River had rather hoped that meant she’d see her again. Perhaps it was the link of both being Time Ladies (though of course, River’s own genetics were diluted in comparison) but there was something about Romana that made her feel like she’d become a friend in the past few hours. Which was actually quite nice. Except for Amy and Rory, River had never had the time for many friends; and especially none –barring the Doctor, who wasn’t precisely an ordinary friend anyway– who’d ever seemed like equals.

Romana clasped her hand, warmly. “Do you usually wear your hair differently?”

River glanced at the strangling tendrils of straight hair framing her face. The remaining remnant of two days ago with Ace at the hair salon in Cardiff… it felt like it had been an eternity ago.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s quite different, usually.”

“I thought so; I didn’t recognise you at first. And I hope mentioning other meetings isn’t saying too much? Because if you’d prefer, there is a word you use all the time…”

“Spoilers?”

“Just so. I’ll see you soon, River.”

The TARDIS door banged shut and the familiar hum of the gears grating against the brakes filled the air for a moment, before it dematerialised and River was left alone in the Cargo Bay. She’d refused to go back with them because with the vortex manipulator, she should be able to find her own way home by now. 

She hoped so, anyway; as she bent her head over her wrist, frowning and poked at the tiny buttons, trying to remember Romana’s instructions. It was possible to enter time-space coordinates, but equally possible to centre on a person instead… so she typed ‘Doctor’ before taking a deep breath, firmly jabbing the square button and trying not to flinch at the spasm of pain as her body left one place, the electrifying charge jolting through her system as she reappeared…

Not with the Doctor. And not on the TARDIS. River turned slowly, trying to take in landmarks to figure out where in the world she’d landed. A long corridor, doors on each side. Green carpet underfoot. It looked like a generic hallway on a generic ship; nothing recognizable, nowhere she knew, and certainly no Doctor anywhere. She rolled her eyes, glaring for a moment at the leather band on her wrist. So much for Romana’s instructions, apparently? Because either she’d been wrong, or River herself had done something incorrect; she wasn’t certain whose fault it was. But she still wasn’t with the person she’d tried to find.

Except… _there_. There were voices coming from somewhere… no, not voices plural, River corrected herself. Voice, singular. A man calling out, sounding worried and irate and…

River tilted her head, not certain she was hearing correctly. _Scottish_. Very Scottish. Rather the masculine version of Amy at her most irritated; and coming closer… closer…

“There you are,” the stranger burst out as he turned the corner, finally coming into her view. “ _Don’t run off_. Does that mean something different to you? You think you’re so good that you can drop off the first word and do the second part of the instructions? I thought you knew by now…”

His words stopped abruptly as he actually saw River, his eyes widening in surprise. She looked back at him in return. He was no one she knew. An older man, tall and thin. Silvering hair and intense blue eyes, sharp features in a narrow face; and yet -as he looked River up and down, eyebrows raised- he wore an extremely pleased smile.

“Well,” he drawled, thick Scottish brogue colouring his words. “How…unexpected.”

River licked her lips nervously, one hand automatically reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She stopped, frowning in surprise as she pulled a lock forward until she could see it properly. Her hair was curly again, when it had been straight –albeit frizzy- moments ago. 

His eyes were tracking her every movement, almost greedily drinking her in. “Have you never travelled by vortex manipulator?” He sounded curious, and still rather amused. “It does that to hair.”

“Does what?” asked River.

“Makes it a mess. Twists it around in the time winds. Unless, it always looks like that?”

“No,” River said. “It doesn’t always look like this.” _This_ seemed to not even just be her usual curls. Her hair had taken on a wild, pop-star-circa-1980s intensity.

“Pity,” he said softly, smile fading off his face as he looked around. “Suits you.” His last words were so quiet, for a moment River wasn’t even certain she’d really heard them.

“Now,” he said, taking her arm and walking them so quickly down the hall she almost staggered, “how about we talk about what you’re doing here?”

“I’m looking for someone,” said River, trying to turn her head to see if there was someone else around. The Doctor. The TARDIS. Any of them; she’d have been happy to see any incarnation of his, rather than this rather possessive stranger.

“Looking for someone.” He clicked his tongue, almost dismissively. “Yes, I’d expect so. Some enthusiastic young man, draped over you like a towel?”

“He doesn’t drape,” River retorted.

“Lark, then.”

“He doesn’t…” She paused.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.” She risked a quick glance upward to see the corners of his mouth, tugged into a faint but unmistakable smile. “Larking, not draping. Accurate. And he has bad manners, too, doesn’t he?”

“No,” said River loyally. She might not always like her husband, but she was honour-bound to defend him. “His manners are fine.”

“Young man, though. The thing,” he said, “about young men is that sometimes they don’t know the right way to act with the ladies of their acquaintance. Especially if they want to make a good impression, they can come across very skittish. Or stupid. Perfect pudding brains.”

“But of course,” River teased, “you’re far too old to be a pudding brain?”

“Ah,” he said. “I’m old enough to know my way around.”

His words were mild and unchallenging, but when she raised her face to his, there was something in the back of his eyes that took her breath away. A warmth -despite a rather gruff exterior- that made her cheeks heat and her mind race.

_I don’t know him_ , River thought, looking away quickly. And this wasn’t like Jack, where he’d been practically daring her to recognize him (and indeed, had been attractive enough that she might have been tempted, even if she didn’t know him.) This man was tall and thin and grey and brusque. And, a complete stranger… besides, she’d seen all his other faces before… and River thought quickly of each hand-drawn face in that diary.

No. This one definitely wasn’t in there.

“I’m married,” River blurted out suddenly, not even sure of why she’d said it. He surveyed her for a moment, one eyebrow raised.

“So am I. A person should never forget that.”

“Well,” said River, trying to calm her breathing and her thoughts.

“Well?”

“Well, then. I suppose the question is, what would your wife think of you escorting another woman down a deserted hall toward an unknown destination? Because,” she looked around, still hoping to see a bright glimpse of blue, or a familiar tweed-clad figure, “I’m not certain where you’re taking me.”

“My wife,” he said, “is a very intelligent woman. Who, over the course of time, has grown to trust me, and to understand that sometimes I need to take time out from my busy schedule to help damsels in distress. Which you are.”

“I’m not a damsel,” protested River.

“But in distress?”

“Not really,” said River.

“Then lost.”

“Perhaps.”

“Finally,” he said, patting her hand. She jumped, biting her tongue at the feel of a little electric shock when their hands touched; but he hadn’t seemed to notice it.

“We can agree on something. So: you’re here looking for someone. As it happens, so am I.”

“And you’ve found me instead,” said River.

“Yes,” the man mused. “You. Popping up unexpected… quite expected of you to do.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” He looked preoccupied as he stopped occasionally to open doors and peer inside. She took advantage of his distraction to squirm out of his grasp, hurrying to the other side of the corridor.

“You’re looking for someone,” said River. She was sure she was interpreting his glare correctly. “Two of us. Easier to look this way. You do those; I’ll take the rooms on the right…”

His frown lightened as she spoke, until it was almost a fond smile. “So many years,” he said. “And it’s just the same…” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Small,” he continued. “Small, brown haired. Bossy.”

“I assume you’re talking about the person we’re looking for,” said River.

“Who else? And hurry up.”

“Trying to,” River muttered. It felt as if there were hundreds of doors in this hallway, each one opening to a bland, featureless bedroom within. She was certain her original impression was correct. Some sort of ship… worryingly empty, and making her wonder who he was looking for.

“Did the ship crash or something?” she asked. He grumbled.

“Not an arbitrary something. Obviously a crash.”

River glared at him. “You don’t have to take out your bad mood on me, you know.”

“Well,” he shot back at her, “you could have picked a better time to arrive. Or a better place. The dancehalls of Markus, or the City of Flowers… though with your pollen allergy, maybe not.”

“You're trying to distract me,” said River as they turned the corner. “Won't work.”

More doors, here to check; more rooms with no one inside. Their search was starting to take on a strangely repetitive rhythm. Step, step, step, step, open door, pause and look... slam. 

“What happened?” River asked. Her ears were ringing from the eerie quiet around them, the anxiety wafting off him was stretching her nerves thin. “Where did the ship crash?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said shortly, rounding into another hallway, so she had to scurry to keep up with his longer legs. “Just so long as we make it off before it falls apart.”

“Falls apart?” River echoed.

“Must you repeat everything I say?”

“I don’t know, must I?” She couldn’t help it, taunting him. It was like the words built up inside her mind, hurtling themselves through her lips without any filter. He paused, turning to look over his shoulder at her.

“Stop it. We don’t have time. And it won’t work on me.”

“You know,” said River. “If you want me to stop repeating everything you say out of confusion, then you’ve got to give me more to work with. _What_ isn’t working on you, sweetie?”

His eyes widened, then narrowed. (Beautiful eyes, River couldn’t help noticing. Ancient eyes, stern and affectionate; and what was _wrong_ with her, noticing such a thing about this man?)

“Sweetie?” he asked.

“I didn’t mean…” River closed her eyes for a moment in embarrassment. Ridiculous that the endearment kept popping out of her mouth. It was different when faced with another version of her husband, but a stranger… oh, the Doctor would hate that. They hadn’t been married long, but she still had a hunch that he felt her _sweetie_ should be kept for him alone. And usually, it was… still, nothing to be done now. River raised her head proudly, giving him a challenging look.

“Now who’s repeating who?”

“You’re a bad influence,” he said sternly. But there was the sudden hint of a smile in his eyes, and she couldn’t help grinning back at him in response.

“I do try my hardest.”

“No, no,” he grunted, hastily dropping his eyes from hers. “Enough of that. No banter; I’m against the banter. And the flirting. Unless we’ve got time; and we haven’t right now.”

“Then talk to me! Tell me what happened. Any survivors? Escape pods? And who exactly are we looking for?”  
She wasn't certain he was going to answer. But then he sighed, his voice so soft that even in the quiet of the empty ship, she had to strain to decipher the words. 

“A friend. We were here together, the nice peaceful vacation she asked for, and then the ship crashed into an asteroid. Bad piloting… bad to have a pilot who can’t steer their ship properly; and not a word,” he snapped, pointing one long finger at her, “from you about that.”

River opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t even thinking that, but he was already barrelling ahead with his narrative.

“They were rushing everyone out, but I called and told her to stay put. I’d come get her; best to keep emergency pods for those who need them. But her room was on another floor. Stupid to have planned it like that, but I thought… I thought she could use a little privacy.”

“I see?” said River, not understanding in the least.

“Rough time for her. Always a rough time. Partly because of me… what I do, or can’t do for her. What she gives up. And her condition now, while she’s alone…” He stopped both talking and moving, sagging against the wall as though he’d lost the motivation to keep going. River watched him for a moment. It was so obvious he was miserable; she could read it in his face, the way he kept his eyes deliberately averted.

But if she’d learned anything studying the Doctor, it was that he was always interfering, ending up feeling guilty about his choices. Even if there were things he couldn’t fix or situations that couldn’t be helped; he always grieved, not remembering that sorrow wouldn't make the slightest difference to the outcome.

What mattered was what happened next. Being there when someone needed you. Carrying on, no matter how you felt.

“I doubt she’s really alone if you’re there for her,” River offered tentatively. He didn't answer, still wasn’t even looking at her as precious seconds ticked by... but then he lifted his head, a faint hurt lurking in the depths of his blue eyes.

“Must you be my conscience?” he asked sounding rather forlorn. All at once, the breath she didn’t even know she was holding whooshed from her lungs, and River managed to smile. This, she could deal with. Pragmatic encouragement to draw him out of himself; not so different from dealing with her husband, after all.

“If you’re being ridiculous, sweetie? Yes. We all make choices.” Her, more than most. “And you live with the consequences and make the best of it, going forward. So stop being… _this_. You’re better than that and we have something to do.” She grasped his hand firmly in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Your friend is waiting for you to find her.”

But he didn’t move. Blue eyes wide and bright with unshed tears, he stared at her for a few long moments, before finally reaching out to cradle her jaw in the curve of his palm.

“Such a stupid old man to forget,” he said.

“Forget what?” River asked, confused.

“Even so young… I forgot that you always know what to say. River Song; making sense of my chaos.” His fingers were cool against her face, his thumb softly stroking her cheek and she didn’t have time to answer. Not even any time to think... because suddenly he was kissing her. His mouth -warm and soft and tasting of butterscotch- on hers in a kiss both gentle and fierce at the same time.

Surprise held her body rigid for a moment before she melted into him; her lips opening automatically as his tongue delved deep inside as though he was searching out each and every one of her secrets. It was intoxicating in a way that only the Doctor usually made her feel: the sensation of his fingers clenched into her hair, cupping the nape of her neck though afraid she might run away from him, or disappear. 

But she didn’t want to escape him. She suddenly had a sneaking suspicion now about who this stranger could be… and it was _impossible_. A freak occurrence: a Doctor she never imagined could have existed. Older. Scottish. A face not in her book of faces…

Except his words had given it away, not to mention how he acted… how her husband had always acted with her. Varying parts amusement and adoration and trust. It seemed there would always be something drawing them together to make them a good team; because no matter the Doctor she had encountered this past week, it had always been the same.

So she didn’t think about it, didn’t think about anything except him. The coolness of his hands sliding beneath her jumper to rest possessively on her back, his soft groan in her ear as his palms caressed down the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips, fingers splayed until he could cup her arse, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her roughly against him. 

River moaned low in her throat; the delicious feeling of his erection against her made her hips jerk forward again so their lower bodies pressed intimately together despite the layers of clothing in the way. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she ground herself against him, seeking just a little friction between them, any sort of a release.

“Better without clothes,” she panted, instantly amused as he pulled away, just enough to give his hands more freedom to slide first up her jumper to fondle her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples so she jumped with a sudden electric thrill of desire; and then lower, slipping into her knickers, his questing fingers stroking lightly through her slick folds until she couldn’t take it. The gentle, tentative touches… when what she wanted was him, right now. 

She couldn't stop kissing him. Slow, sloppy kisses, their tongues tangling as she tried to spread her legs as far as she could to give him better access; and he complied, rubbing against her clit in a series of rapid motions to leave her breathless, before sliding his hand even lower, thrusting one finger inside her.

River was writhing against his hand with those long clever fingers. She could feel him thrusting two digits inside her, now three, as his palm ground against her sex. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t do nothing but feel… and River forced her hands to move, yank his shirt tails out of his trousers to feel the softness of his belly before she rapidly undid his belt, tugging at his fly so she could reach inside and feel his length, hard and thick beneath her palm. She curled her fingers around him, pumping her hand up and down, pleased when he hissed, his own hand stilling against her.

“Sod the ship,” the Doctor muttered suddenly, pulling her leggings down in one swift move, her knickers going with them; and she paused, her hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she frantically kicked them off. His own trousers pooled around his ankles, he pushed her up against the wall, his hands cupping her arse as he lifted her up, just enough to feel the blunt pressure of his head right against her opening… and then his hips surged forward, the sudden full feeling as he was buried within her forcing a strangled whimper from her throat.

She only had one foot on the ground, the other wrapped around his narrow waist, hooking her ankle down against his arse as he pinned her to the wall with each thrust. Her skin tingled from every sensation; the soft scratchiness of the jumper bunched up beneath her armpits, the cool air from the Starship against her stomach and bare legs, the wall behind her back. His dark wool coat swinging as he moved against her, the silky satin lining brushing against her skin. 

And then him… the emptiness every time he withdrew so that she was missing him, missing part of her soul; to be forgotten with each timed thrust, the little twist of his hips that made her cry out, fingers clutching frantically at his shoulders.

The dull thuds of her back against the wall, the wet slap of skin and their moans seemed almost obscenely loud in this abandoned space; but River didn’t care – couldn’t care enough to stifle her cries as she felt her climax building. More like screams when they were both this close; his hoarse panting urged her on as she rested her head against the wall, her back arching as her orgasm crashed over her.

He buried his head in her neck, his hips tilting forward with a few more sharp thrusts before she felt him shudder, his grip on her arse so tight that she fancied she could feel the bruises forming. River couldn’t help kissing him, any part of him she could reach. His temple, his cheek, his ear. Both those ridiculous eyebrows, the tip of his nose. His lips, when he finally turned his face toward her; soft and pliant beneath hers, caught in something of a frown as he drew away.

“Do you often shag strangers on crashed ships?”

Ah. She was wondering when this might come out.

“Only my husband,” she answered. “As I think you know. _Doctor_.”

The frown turned into a wicked smirk, obviously pleased that she’d recognised him after all.

“Finally,” he said in satisfaction, resting his forehead against hers. “I was wondering what had happened to my brilliant wife who always knows… unless you didn’t?

“No,” he said quickly, as she opened her mouth to answer. “Don’t tell me if you’ve seen this face before. I'm trying not to rewrite any lines, River. Or,” he added, almost to himself, “find myself with time limits, after everything.”

“Time limits? Like shagging in a crashed ship?”

“Ah, we've done worse.” He sounded almost smug. “Besides, statistically, a motionless ship would last about seventy-five minutes until it will begin to break up in the time winds. More or less... so we've time yet.”

It was funny that those were the words he chose. _There's time yet_... Because suddenly there was a loud crunching sound as the ship rocked beneath their feet. They were still so wrapped up with each other -her leg around his waist, his hands curved around her hips- that the ship's convulsive motion pitched them off balance. The Doctor swore beneath his breath as he pulled her closer, somehow managing to twist so that he hit the ground first, but her landing -on top of him- was relatively softer.

“Already up for seconds?” she managed to ask.  
“Bad girl,” he scolded, his grin belying the tone of his voice. “Come on River, we'll have to go.” He was hurriedly pulling up his trousers before reaching over to casually sort through her discarded clothing, swiftly pocketing something purple and lacy... 

River rolled her eyes. The cracking sounds were getting louder, the ship about to break into pieces beneath them, and he'd just stolen her ruined knickers? The Doctor met her eyes, smirking instead of offering even the slightest apology; and River sighed, grinning. Despite his face, some things about her husband would never change... and she rather liked that. The continuity of being them.

There was no need to bother with her leggings; the jumper was just long enough to cover her (decently, if a bit skimpy on length), her boots were still on and the TARDIS with its wardrobe had to be close. River grabbed the Doctor's hand.

“Run?” She asked breathlessly. He nodded.

“Centre of the ship; the TARDIS is there.”

It was, River felt, strangely akin to her previous day with the Fourth Doctor. Her hand in his, their feet swift as they kept pace; although instead of the measured footsteps of enemy soldiers was the intermittent crunches and shudders of the ship falling apart... But as they drew up to the TARDIS doors, she realised what else bore a startling similarity.

The Doctor alone. His companion waiting somewhere for him.

"We didn't find her," River burst out, looking guiltily over her shoulder as though she expected the girl to appear. "We got distracted... stopped looking."

The expression on the Doctor's face was priceless. Guilt and horror and worry... and then he shrugged philosophically, pulling River toward him to brush a chaste kiss on her lips.

"And?"

"And... and you're going to leave her out there?"

"Course not," the Doctor scoffed, seeming surprised that she'd even suggest such a thing. "You'll think of something."

"I will?" His faith was reassuring, if a trifle misplaced. Yes, of course she could think of something. But -his companions. She knew now how he felt about them, how much he cared. And he was leaving it up to her?

His eyebrows were raised as he watched her, the tiniest of smiles hovering on his lips.

"Of course you will. This whole week has been about that for you. Getting to know me, my companions... and in understanding who I take away with me, why I take them... you'd never allow them to come to harm. Would you?"

So many things in that little speech, and her mouth gaped in surprise as she tried to put them together into a reasonable order. But in the end, the only sentence that could come out was: "You know when I've come from?"

"Well," he drew out the word slowly, "I know that it was wrong to have left when you were supposed to be meeting your husband. And to have lied to me about it for years...” He shook his head indignantly; and River bit her lip, aware of how bad all this sounded. How very selfish...

“I haven’t lied to you yet,” she muttered. “And I didn’t exactly mean to leave. But when I saw you and Clara that day… it was ridiculous to be jealous, but…”

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed soberly. “Bowtie didn’t realise that you even could be jealous. You never had been before… first time for everything.”

“And a last,” said River.

He closed his eyes for a moment before giving her a terse nod. “And a last. Maybe some lasts aren’t what they seem, hmm? But you should know, River. My companions: there’s a balance with them. They’re the best of me, but in exchange for that, there’s the obligation; caring and taking care. But you…”

“What about me?” asked River curiously.

“My wife is worth more to me than that.” He gave a brusque little shrug, and River began to laugh. A week, roaming up and down her husband’s timeline to understand. It was never about if he loved his companions, or didn’t love her. They were just different categories… and so very different that jealousy was a ridiculous emotion to have.

“I see,” she said. “Besides, your wife is an intelligent woman who trusts you?” She reached up to trace her fingers over his face; the one she hadn’t known about and yet didn’t seem like a stranger anymore. The eyebrows, grey and bushy. The sharp swoop of nose and cheekbones and chin; the crinkled lines around his eyes that deepened as he smiled.

“Best woman I know,” said the Doctor.


	7. Sweet Saturday

In the end, River didn't have to think of anything. Because when they pushed open the TARDIS doors, there was a figure sitting discontentedly on the stairs; arms crossed, purple headphones settled firmly on her ears. She looked up, the relief on her face at seeing them swiftly replaced by a scowl.

"Oh," she said flatly, pushing the headphones off, using the railing to pull herself up to standing. "You finally made it back, did you?"

“I told you-” the Doctor started to say, when she cut him off with an impatient snort.

“Yes, yes. 'Stay put, I’ll come get you.' Have I ever done that?”

“Once,” muttered the Doctor darkly, “I had companions who did as they were told.”

“Really?” asked River, remembering the people she’d met during the last week. “Which ones were those, sweetie?”

The girl began laughing softly, and River glanced at her, finally remembering her name. _Clara._ There were differences in her now. Older, certainly; her face rounder, a few extra pounds around her middle making her walk a little less jaunty as she made her way across the console room. And her eyes seemed both wiser and warier… the legacy, perhaps, of travelling with the Doctor. Or the reason for why he always seemed to be worried about her –the Eleventh Doctor back at Delphox, and this Doctor now- because she could see her husband watching his companion carefully. Sizing up her physical and emotional state, as if he was concerned she’d break apart in front of him.

“We were out this long because we were looking for you,” said the Doctor. Clara stared coolly back at him.

"Yes, I saw that. And heard it, too. Reason I needed my headphones..." She pursed her lips, arms crossed as she stared straight at the Doctor. He sighed.

"Go on then," he snapped. "Say it if you're going to."

"Fine," Clara bit out. "Looking for me so much that you thought it was a great time to stop for a shag?"

"Sorry," River interjected. "I think I distracted him."

Despite the furious expression in her eyes, Clara's face softened as she looked at River.

"You always do," she answered, before breaking into a grin. "Hi, River. I'd come hug you but you're...umm," the girl's cheeks flamed a brilliant pink, "you're not wearing very much. And I just saw a _little_ too much of the two of you a few moments ago; so if you don't mind, maybe I'll keep my distance? Stay over here."

River managed not to laugh at the uncomfortable expression on Clara's face. "Understandable. And I do apologise for what you might have seen..."

"And heard," added the Doctor casually.

Clara shuddered, her face screwed up in distaste. "Are you trying to make me lose my lunch?" she asked plaintively.

"You're doing enough of it lately," said the Doctor dismissively. "Thought you'd be getting good at that."

"Oh, aren't you supposed to behave when your wife is here? Be nicer or..." She huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Less... _you_? Because you're usually all happy that she's safe and you can see her anytime-"

The Doctor made a sudden sound -an anxious, gasping, gagging sound- and River looked at him in alarm. But apart his eyes glued to Clara, his eyebrows drawn into a fierce frown; he seemed fine enough...

“You know the rules,” the Doctor muttered in a sharp undertone to his companion. “ _Check diaries_.”

“You didn’t,” River reminded him.

“I knew when you are. There are always signs,” he answered quickly. “Especially if you’re observant.”

He wasn’t even looking at her as he spoke. His eyes were fixed on Clara’s, as though reminding her to be quiet. She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows; and he scowled back at her. River looked between them, feeling confused and strangely left out.

“I can give you two a moment if you'd like," she offered.

“No, don't leave; he hates it when you do.” Clara gave the Doctor a sweet smile that belied the look in her eyes. “He just wants me to stop talking so I don’t give away any spoilers that you shouldn’t know yet."

The girl's eyes flickered over to River, studiously ignoring her bare legs barely covered by the jumper hem, focussing instead on... her hands? River looked at her, confused as Clara's eyes narrowed.

"Lovely ring," the girl said casually. "Delphox market?”

“Well… yes. Thank you,” said River, distracted by the Doctor’s glare and Clara’s innocent expression.

“Very masculine, though,” said Clara. “If you ask me, you should exchange it for something more…” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Delicate? Or gracefully understated.”

“Oh,” said River. “Should I?” She was starting to smile, but the Doctor scowled harder, stepping between them.

“Breaking rules all over the place,” he muttered to his companion. “Don’t know why I keep you around.”

“Cause you like me anyway,” said Clara. “And don’t worry; _I’ll_ go. Nice to see you, River. See you soon. Maybe after you make a trip to the wardrobe.”

It was quiet in the TARDIS after she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, and River looked at the Doctor. “What about my ring?” she asked.

“Clara had a point,” he grumbled. “Doesn’t suit you. Too big. Too many crevices. You’d get muck caught in it when you play in the dirt.”

“You mean, when I’m working? Going on archaeological digs?”

He shrugged. “I prefer my wording. And much as I like seeing you in less clothing, perhaps you should still go find something else to wear. I’ll drop you off to where you’re supposed to be...”

“And I thought Clara had a point… or was that just about the ring?” She couldn’t help teasing him. “I thought that you never wanted me to leave?”

He didn’t say anything. Just caught her hand in his, and River jumped at the electric spark that seemed to pass between them for a moment; before looking down at their fingers entwined and wondered how she could have missed it. 

They matched, their rings. The one she’d bought at the Delphox market and put onto her own hand for safekeeping was on his, too. The same ring, at different points in time. Except that his looked older, to match this face. Worn. Loved.

“Maybe I should go back to Delphox market,” said River. “Exchange my ring for a better one?”

“Don’t bother,” said the Doctor. She looked up to find him smiling at her. “If you’re lucky, maybe someone will exchange it for you.

* * *

With final bumping, scraping sound the TARDIS landed outside River’s Stormcage cell. She didn’t want to leave; she wanted to stay with the Doctor –this Doctor- just a little longer… but he’d already said that she ought to get back. There was a baby-faced idiot waiting for her, worried and increasingly frantic the longer she stayed away.

“Time machine,” River said lazily as she emerged from the wardrobe in a soft grey dress and freshly washed hair. “I could go back anytime I please…”

“Oh, put Bowtie out of his misery,” said the Doctor. “Waiting for you, feeling so guilty that he’d upset the Mrs… go save him from fretting himself into a new regeneration.”

“Speaking of… how did that work, anyway? The new face? Because I thought-“

“Long story,” muttered the Doctor.

“Which means: spoilers.”

“No,” he corrected her. “It means long story. Has to be lived. And don’t worry: I have it on the best authority that somehow you’ll always defy odds and you’ll see quite a bit of this face again. Always when I least expect it; there you’ll be. My wife, getting me into no end of trouble again.”

There was _something_ he wasn’t telling her, she could feel it. Some sadness hidden beneath his words… but there was also a certain look on his face (triumph, maybe?) that whatever was to happen in their world, between them, everything was fine. Maybe even happy.

“Now go,” said the Doctor. “Back to him.”

“You,” corrected River.

“Still him and me. You can’t be with both of us at once.”

“Though,” deadpanned River, “if you’re open to suggestions: that _would_ be quite a birthday present.”

His younger self would have turned a brilliant pink at her words. This Doctor merely gazed steadily at her until the faintest flush suffused her own cheeks. She was about to apologise –maybe her comment had been out of line?- when he shrugged.

“Maybe when you’re older,” he said mildly. There was a glint in his eyes; almost a seductive promise that made her grin in appreciation as he leaned over, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingertips. Such an old-fashioned gesture, but it made her smile.

“And here I thought you knew of better places to kiss me,” teased River, absolutely loving the expression on her husband’s face. An extremely sly smirk.

“Soon,” he said shortly. “Now, out with you. Back to where you belong.”

“With you,” said River. “Always.”

“Yes,” he admitted, his eyes softening. “Always. Whichever me you find yourself with.”

It was difficult to acclimatise her eyes to the dimness of Stormcage’s corridors, after stepping off the TARDIS. River had always supposed it was less the quality of light, and more the sense of warmth and comfort she got from both the Doctor, and the ship herself… still, she found herself blinking rapidly, trying to get her bearings as the TARDIS dematerialised behind her, and she walked the few paces to her cell. The door was unlocked, opening the moment she pressed against it; and there was a figure huddled into a ball on her cot, blanket pulled over their head.

“Well,” River said loudly. “I know that _I’m_ right here, so whoever is hiding beneath there is almost definitely not an inmate…” She twitched back the duvet to reveal a younger version of her husband. His long legs curled up, tweed jacket bunched up beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. He sat up quickly, looking relieved to see her smiling; and yet, maybe just a little worried.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out immediately, without waiting for her to say anything. River blinked in surprise.

“For what?” she asked. “Leaving your boots on while lying on my bed? Again?”

“Ah,” said the Doctor, looking down in surprise at his feet and the dusty shoeprints on the sheets. “Yes. That too… but also, no, I meant earlier. At Delphox market?”

River bit her lip. It had been a week for her; but there were timelines to preserve here and it was the wrong time to say it. His later self told her that it wasn’t until after he’d regenerated that she’d told him the truth.

“Yesterday,” she lied smoothly. “And you really spent the night here waiting for me, because you were worried I wasn’t there?”

“Course I was worried, River.” He ran his hands agitatedly through his fringe before grabbing her hands to pull her down onto the bed beside him. “Because I know you’re young, this you. It’s very early; but we’ve always had a deal. If we ask, then the other will always be there.

“Except,” he amended quickly, “once. You couldn’t be there until the end… and I understood that. Not at the time, though I do now. And I don’t blame you; timey-wimey for you to be there as a baby, and then as you trying to save yourself and…”

After a week of seeing other versions of the Doctor, River found herself grinning at her husband as he babbled. She’d missed this, just a bit. His other faces might have had the endless ability of gab, but they were nothing compared to him.

“Sweetie,” she cut in. “I was there. And then I left because-“ She forgot what she was saying as the Doctor pulled her forward, crushing her against him as he rained gentle kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, all along the curve of her ear and down her neck.

“I know you were there,” he murmured. “Because I waited for you, then got a message on the psychic paper from-“

“Clara?”

“Err. No.” She could almost feel the waves of embarrassment washing over him, and she pulled back to see his face. He met her eyes, shrugging helplessly. 

“From myself,” admitted the Doctor. “Saying that I’m a pudding brain; which is a great saying, that, I should use it more."

River bit back a grin. It lacked a little something, without the gruff Scottish accent behind it.

"Anyway," the Doctor went on, "it said that you may have misunderstood something you saw there. And that you were upset, so I ought to go to Stormcage and wait for you to get back to apologise. I owed you that, at least; the waiting, the apology and this…”

He paused, turning to fish into the pocket of his wadded up jacket on the bed behind him and produce a small blue box topped with a lopsided bow. River’s breath caught in her throat as she took it from him. Not that she hadn’t seen it before, a week ago at the market at Delphox… but now, after seeing a later Doctor and Clara, she had a suspicion she knew what was in it. 

“It’s for me?” She couldn’t help asking, though. The Doctor looked indignant.

“Yes, of course it’s for you! How many people do I do things for, River?”

“You do things for everyone. You,” said River, “save the entire universe, over and over again.”

He waved that away, as though saving the world was nothing; and maybe to him, it wasn’t. 

“But I don’t buy it presents. With money!” He looked so proud of himself that she found herself grinning. 

“Where did you get money from?”

“Ah.” His smile looked slightly evasive. “I may have… oh, that doesn’t matter. But open it!” He was hovering at her shoulder, nudging her hand until she undid the bow, peeking inside to see a ring. A plain silver band, slim and unburnished and unassuming… almost entirely dark except for an etching around the band that gleamed only for a moment as the light hit it. 

_Hearts_ , River realised, picking it up to scrutinize further. Entwined hearts, four of them.

“I had some help,” said the Doctor. “Clara… have you met her?” River managed to nod. “I thought at first I ought to get you a dress; something to wear when we go dancing… can’t tell you why –spoilers, dear- but something happened lately that makes me feel like dancing. With my wife…

“But,” continued the Doctor without pausing for breath, “she overruled me and said that I didn’t have fashion sense for myself, and I shouldn’t inflict that lack on you. Clara is _very_ bossy for someone so small… but she was right. You deserve something beautiful. And the hearts, four of them…?

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. Maybe around your neck; there’s a chain in the box. But I wanted you to have something… there’s _so_ much to come for us, River.” She lifted her head to look at him as he whispered those last words. There was that faint trace of sadness and triumph that his later regeneration had had only a few minutes ago; which made her wonder what exactly was in her future that he was remembering.

“And no matter what,” said the Doctor, seeming unaware that he was making her suspicious, “I wanted you to have something real, right from the beginning of us. To remember that you’re my wife. Always… so do you like it?”

“It’s lovely. Delicate… gracefully understated.” River smiled, remembering the girl’s words. “Thank Clara for me, would you? Because I think it’ll suit me more than what I just bought…” She waved her hand in front of the Doctor’s nose for a moment before pulling off the ring she wore, pressing it into his hand.

“We can trade,” she offered. He grinned at her in response, sliding it onto his ring finger.

“A little loose,” River said, watching him. “I’m sure it’ll fit eventually.”

“Until then,” the Doctor tugged it back off, giving a tiny kiss to the signet on top before carefully tucking it into the inside pocket of his tweed, “it can stay in my pocket. Close to my hearts.”

“Sap,” said River.

“Only for you,” he answered seriously, sliding her own ring onto her finger. “Because, what I was saying before… the message I sent myself? It said you had a reason for running away from me at the market."

"I did," River began to say, but he interrupted her.

"I had to tell you that it’s impossible I’d ever care more for my companions than you… but you know that, don’t you?"

He brushed nervous fingers through his hair before taking her hands in his. His voice was soft, his eyes earnest.

"I didn't want to care about you, River. But then, every time I met you, you were… you were someone I could trust. Someone who always understood. I might not have known who you were, but I always knew that you were more than just a chance meeting, more than someone I might be willing to take along as a companion.

“You were you,” he said, looking intently at her. “Irreplaceable.”

It felt ridiculous that her eyes were suddenly filling with tears, his image blurring before her. All this time hopping through her husband’s timestream, to understand the truth of Jack’s comments back at the bar. 

_There’s a difference between his companions and his loved ones. It’s love, yes… but it’s not the same at all._

She wasn’t even aware of the tears sliding down her cheeks as she gave him a shaky smile.

“I know," River whispered. "I think I just had to have the time to discover that for myself."

The Doctor sighed, his body relaxing as he beamed down at her before leaning over to press his lips softly against hers. His arms came up around her, holding her close to his chest to feel their hearts, quadruple beats synchronised in perfect time.


End file.
